


It's the Dawn of a New Day

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F, Gen, Torna: The Golden Country DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:58:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Mythra notices that Brighid is a little different from how she was five hundred years ago. (some Golden Country spoilers)





	It's the Dawn of a New Day

**Author's Note:**

> brighid is honestly a fuckin riot in torna, she's unbelievably sassy and snobby and i love her??
> 
> but also i beat the game and got a lot of feelings so

Some sort of strange dread keeps Mythra wide awake, in these early hours when even the monks haven’t gotten up and the stars are still dim in the sky. Her footsteps faintly echo through the plaza. They’re going to talk to Amalthus today. Amalthus, who had been only a Quaestor the last time Mythra spoke to him (it feels like mere days ago), who is now the Praetor and is still Malos’s Driver.

Rex wouldn’t understand. Maybe she’ll have Pyra convey her unease to him later.

“Can’t sleep, Mythra?”

Mythra jolts, defensive. Seoris Plaza is so barren yet Brighid still managed to sneak up behind her in the open… that asshole. Or maybe Mythra was just so lost in her thoughts she didn’t hear the clacking of heels against the concrete.

“Ugh— did you need something, Brighid?” Pyra notes the defensiveness in her voice. Mythra tells her to be quiet. “What are _you_ doing up so early?”

“I heard the sunrise in Indol is stunning. But Lady Mòrag needs her rest, so I decided to see it by myself.”

Mythra just grunts in acknowledgment. Her eyes fall upon the mural at the other side of the plaza and she begins to walk towards it as a silent cue of _I’m going this way now_ , and Brighid follows. She’s walking with her. Why is she walking with her.

“Uh, you won’t see the sunrise from here.”

“There’s still plenty of time.”

It isn’t just the impending audience with _Praetor_ Amalthus that bothers Mythra now. She squints at Brighid, slowing in her steps before coming to a halt.

Alright, she needs to ask.

“Why are you being nice, Brighid?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re being nice to me. It’s weird.”

“Am I not supposed to? I would think I owe the Aegis a modicum of respect.”

But that’s not how it works, damnit. For a while, Mythra had been rather disoriented after she’d been oh-so-rudely awakened. What felt like a few weeks ago to her was actually centuries ago. She still feels the lingering effects of her long slumber even now, when they’ve made it all the way to Indol and have been traveling together for some time.

She remembers the sight of Brighid and Aegaeon’s dull Core Crystals, as clear as the daybreak over Indol’s wings. Over Torna’s wings. And now Brighid is here exactly as she was five hundred years ago. Sort of.

Mythra snorts. “You didn’t care that I was the Aegis back then.”

“Ah.” Brighid puts the back of her hand to her chin. “Right. I’d read in my journal that we had a… rivalry.”

“A _rivalry_ is one way to put it. Did you write about how you always took the chance to insult me or threaten to put me back in my Core Crystal?”

“I don’t water things down when I write in my journal, Mythra.” Something sharp is at the edge of her tone, daring Mythra to press it further and give Brighid an excuse to snap back.

But Brighid never needed an excuse for that. Mythra sighs. “You know, you were a real piece of work, always finding some inane reason to provoke me. Honestly, I think you just felt threatened.”

“Threatened? By _you?_ Ha. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Wow, what happened to _’I owe the Aegis a modicum of respect’_?” There she was though, for a moment— the Brighid that Mythra had known. Brighid is glowering, easy to tell by the pinch between her brows and that bit of bared teeth. Yes, she’s still the exact same Brighid, which is more of a relief than Mythra would like to admit.

“Seriously though,” Mythra says, crossing her arms. “I know about the stuff you worry about, so… you haven’t changed at all, since the last time we knew each other. Really. You’re still the same insufferable, snobby jerk I knew.”

“ _That’s_ supposed to make me feel better.”

“I’m just making my point!” She waves a hand dismissively, then pauses to actually think. Pyra is quiet, simply observing their exchange. Brighid is thinking as well… probably, and probably staring at Mythra’s face. She can’t tell where she’s looking. Ugh.

“My last entry from that lifetime is from the night before we ventured into Torna’s interior to confront Malos,” Brighid slowly says, turning her face up to the sky. “After that, nothing. My Driver at the time… Emperor Hugo. He perished in the battle against Malos, from what I read in the history texts.”

“Hugo…” Mythra swallows, something heavy in her throat. Smoke and dust in the air. Brighid and Aegaeon’s Core Crystals, dull on the ground. Addam cradling his best friend’s lifeless body in his arms. Her breath hitches. “Hugo fought so, so bravely. He sacrificed himself to protect Addam, in the end. I don’t know if the textbooks ever mentioned that part.”

“I see.”

Sometimes, the past comes welling up in an uncontrollable flood that Mythra can’t stop. Pyra doesn’t intervene to act as a buffer of comfort this time. “You were rude, arrogant, and always trying to pick a fight with me. But you were also completely devoted to Emperor Hugo’s safety. Just like how you’re devoted to Mòrag, now.”

Brighid says nothing, probably trying to make sense of how she should feel about a Driver from five hundred years past that she can’t even remember anymore.

“Actually? I think I figured out why you’re so much more laidback now,” Mythra laughs, shaking her head.

“Oh, really.”

“It’s Mòrag. Being with Mòrag just… really helps your natural temperament, I guess. You seem a lot happier than you used to be.”

That actually gets a slight smile out of Brighid, and she crosses her arms over her midriff. “So you’re saying I’m normally… _harsher_. And that Lady Mòrag's presence is some sort of sedative.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You’re still _you_ , though.”

“Well, I suppose I can't take too much offense, when it's Lady Mòrag.”

This time, Mythra isn’t caught off guard in the middle of a train of thought— she turns around when Mòrag approaches, vestiges of sleep still visible in her bleary eyes and the slight dragging of her footsteps. Brighid immediately strides over to her.

“Lady Mòrag?”

“There you are, Brighid. Come, the sun will be rising in just a few minutes.”

“You should get more sleep…”

“It’s alright. You wanted to see the sunrise, did you not?” Mòrag reaches for one of Brighid’s hands, but stops herself when she looks past her. “You as well, Mythra?”

Mythra stares at that small gap of space left between Mòrag and Brighid’s hands. She was right on the mark. Of course she was. Humans and Blades will always remain who they are at their very core, but they will also continue to change and grow. Brighid changed, too, even though she’s still Brighid, and Mòrag is here as proof.

But it’d be kinda weird if she thanked Mòrag for being the reason that Brighid is actually bearable to be around now, so.

She shrugs and offers a lopsided smile, walking over. “Sure. I’ll watch the sunrise with you guys.”


End file.
